


Overwatch: Delta

by TransDimensionalEngineer



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Conspiracy, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-21 00:51:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10674282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TransDimensionalEngineer/pseuds/TransDimensionalEngineer
Summary: Kings Row. London. 2080. Tekhartha Mondatta is dead and London is becoming increasingly hostile towrds its Omnic citizenry. Serving the people of London is William Huntley of the Police Service. Tensions ever escalate as William finds that the world is about to change forever and it's time to pick a side.





	Overwatch: Delta

“Please disperse! We do not wish to utilise unnecessary force! Please remain behind the barriers!”

The crowd didn’t seem to be listening to the woman with the megaphone. If anything they were getting more and more unruly. The front row seemed to be pushing harder and harder against the barrier that separated them from both the main stage as well as the crowd of people that were there for the rally. Therefore, the large line of armoured riot police that was positioned in front of two crowds of people who were generally not pleased to see the other were not in the best position to be standing. Static sounded throughout the radio before crackling into the voice of Captain Watson.

“Maintain rank and hold.the.line. If this gets ugly we may have to get physical.” 

This wasn’t the first time a protest had gotten out of hand, but it didn’t make it any less terrifying.

The crowd pushed harder, harder. The fastenings that held the waist-high railings together strained under the mounting pressure. There were mostly humans but with a noticeable number of Omnics scattered throughout what had been dubbed “The Opposition” by the rally supporters—more than usual in fact. 

The visor of his helmet had steamed up something fierce. “The sweat,” he said out loud, not loud enough to be heard over the immense noise of the enormous crowd, however. Whatever The Opposition had been chanting had been long forgotten, substituted for general jeering, yelling, and slanderous insults.

After what seemed like an age, the man of the hour took his position on the stage. Terrence Blaine: First place candidate for Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, hair well coiffed, suit pitch perfect in every single detail, speech at hand, and more than likely loaded with Anti-Omnic rhetoric. 

The speech never began, however. A brick was sent hurtling straight towards Blaine as his mouth began to form the first syllable of his speech. It grazed the side of his head, scraping his temple and catching his ear painfully. Whatever coherence could be heard in both crowds evaporated and was replaced with a tumultuous stampede. The fastenings on the railings gave way and all crowds, supporters, opposition and Police, collided. 

Another brick was aimed at a helmet whose visor was obscured by steam. It found its mark perfectly.

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"...was no use talking, there was nothing to say, when the band began to play and play..."

Will slapped his alarm clock with the same force he would use to swat a particularly bothersome fly. Great song to wake up to, but not when you had just jerked awake thanks to reliving the memory of being sucker punched with a piece of masonry at a rally-turned-riot. He looked at the digital display of the clock. Six AM. 

“Throw a sicky and stay at home today. There is literally nothing stopping you.”

Will turned over to look at Brian with a smile on his face. The phantom headache receded as Will looked Brian over. As much as Will loved him, it was extremely difficult to not be jealous of his boyfriend who got to stay in bed looking somewhat like an adorably warm cinnamon bun made of thick duvet covers and tousled hair. Will flicked him on the nose and stood up.

“You make that sound appealing, which it is, but do tell me, who’s going to miss out on the new hardware the station receives today if they do decide to bunk off?” Even though he wasn’t facing Brian, the smirk on Will’s face was clearly audible.

Brian playfully threw a pillow at Will’s back, who turned around to smirk an even bigger smirk.

“Hardware that I designed I’ll have you know. S’not my fault you decided not to get first pick at the loot when I offered it.” Brian stuck his nose in the air in mock indignation. Will responded by launching a pair of socks at him.

“It’s only a half day; I’ll be done by one in the afternoon at the latest. Now stop pretending that I’m the worst person in the world and get up!” 

With another extremely wide smirk, Will strode over to the en-suite and turned on the shower. Brian resumed enjoying the bed as steam began to fill the bathroom.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Brian made his way downstairs to start preparing breakfast, flicking on the wall-mounted television as he made his way into the kitchen. The news, whilst never really uplifting, was still always worth keeping up with.

“...and from Russia over the last few months we’ve had no shortage of coverage over what people are now calling The Second Omnic Crisis. Since the unexpected reactivation of a Siberian Omnium factor, conflict in that part of the world has increased dramatically. Experts are now leading an investigation into any remaining facilities in the United Kingdom, stating that if there is any chance of reactivation, that will stop it. In other news, musical revolutionary Lúcio Correia dos Santos is slated for a concert at the Royal Albert Hall sometime this year. He is stated as being a huge fan of British Rave Culture. Here’s hoping his first visit, is a success…over to…”

Brian lost track of the weather report that was now giving its most likely incorrect prediction of how much rain would or wouldn’t be falling. He set to preparing a decent fry up on the stove but found his thoughts drifting.

“Second Omnic Crisis…surely it’s a bit premature to call it that—it’s not like it’s worldwide or on our doorstep…besides things have improved since Mondatta…and the rally”

Brian shook these thoughts off as Will came down, a towel draped over his shoulders, t-shirt and jeans. He took a large hearty sniff of the scent of fried breakfast that was filling the kitchen, and his eyes went momentarily crossed with delight. If there was one thing they both enjoyed it was a full stomach at the breakfast table. 

They enjoyed a hearty meal whilst listening to the entertainment news followed by an update on Mr. Terrence Blaine, both rolling their eyes on his insistence that Omnics were one hundred percent guaranteed to become violent again given the events unfolding in Siberia and Russia. He even had the gall to claim that Aleksandra Zaryanova had spoken with him on the matter and agreed with him wholeheartedly. Both Will and Brian snorted in derision. 

“...and the next time one of those tin men Buddhism types approach me asking for a handout or if I want to be enlightened, why I dare say I’ll give them what for!” said Brian, affecting a posh accent and sticking his nose in the air.

“Tea! Crumpets! England for the English, I say, I say!” Will joined in.

Both of them doubled over with laughter and resumed their breakfast. Upon draining his orange juice and helping himself to another slice of toast, Will checked his watch.

“Right. Got to get going now. Can’t wait to see what you lot have cooked up in the basement!” 

Brian beamed back at him, clearly excited. 

“You’ll love it, it’s going to become the new standard across the country!” he said.

Will leant down and kissed him lightly before fishing his car keys out of his jacket pocket. Brian may have enjoyed an extra few minutes in bed, but a half-day on a Friday was still nothing to sneeze at. Will smiled again.

“When I’m done, I’ll get straight back here and we’ll toast to the success of…whatever it is you’ve cooked up with your lab rat friends,” Will said with a smile. 

Brian rolled his eyes and flicked Will on the nose. 

“I’ll see you later then.” 

After kissing him goodbye, Will exited the kitchen and closed the front door behind him, setting off for the Police Station.  
      
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Will entered the main station of the Kings Row Police Station through the revolving door and smiled at the receptionist. Barry, a somewhat portly man with thinning grey hair and matching moustache, smiled back.

“Never fails to amuse me that you can turn up bang on time each and every day,” said Barry, as he took a sip from his coffee and swallowed quickly upon realising how hot the beverage was. 

He started fanning his singed tongue with one hand as Will sniggered with one hand over his mouth.

“Well there’s a funny sight as soon as you get into the building to clock in…” quipped Will, placing his hand on the scanner that was fitted into the surface of the horseshoe shaped desk. 

It scanned his hand and beeped, flashing on screen a short message from York, the Stations resident A.I.

“William A. Huntley. Signed in at 9:00am. They’re waiting for you downstairs.”

Will managed to thank York and keep down another splutter of laughter as Barry took a gulp of water from a bottle he had at his desk and to his annoyance, slopped some down his shirt and badge. Will quickly jogged to the open lift and stabbed at the button for the second floor basement, his laughter escaping him this time.

“...it makes getting in on time worth the effort!” He called to Barry as the door slid shut, obscuring the rude gesture that Barry was no doubt directing towards Will. Will had known Barry long enough to become used to playful ribbing and colourful language that Barry was known for dishing out. Will recalled the Station’s last Christmas get-together. Barry had gotten so drunk he had attempted to flirt with both Captain Watson and her Omnic assistant KD-NS at the same time, and whilst both had taken this in good humour, it was clear that neither of them would ever let Barry forget it. The lift pinged its arrival at the basement and Will exited into the R&D Department.

The R&D Department below Kings Row Station was never a dull visit, usually packed full of activity with lab-coated scientists and engineers dashing around to put the finishing touches on whatever gizmo or gadget they were attempting to get into working order or complaining to each other how York could do with a good tune up. Today the room was fuller than usual with both Lab Staff and Police Officers from the upper floors, all assembled and sitting on rows of neatly organised chairs that were facing towards a small demonstration area. New gear, new toys. Will smiled broadly and took a seat in the middle row. 

Will felt someone tap him on the shoulder from the row behind him. He turned to see Jean Rouble, his fellow officer, smiling at him.

“Where’s Brian? I didn’t think he’d miss a chance to show off after the amount of time he spent bigging up his latest project,” she said brightly. 

Jean was probably the only person to have heard Brian’s excitable babble about this particular going on in R&D more so than Will, having spent a good chunk of her free time down in R&D, attempting to wheedle information out of Brian about said project, at Will’s request. There was only so much Will could try and glean out of Brian at home.

“He managed to get the day off. Said he wanted to let his assistant present this one,” he said, grinning widely.  

Will nodded to the young man on stage who seemed to be attempting to stand a shop window mannequin upright. Didier was a tall, lanky technician with sandy brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, his pointed face showing signs of frustration that the mannequin wasn’t staying upright, tottering this way and that. After another thirty seconds of the back row sniggering, he acquainted himself with a nail gun and drove two very long steel nails through the feet of the mannequin, pinning it to the floor.

Didier, finally happy with this, cleared his throat loudly. The room fell silent and with a very slight French lisp, he began to talk.

“Thank you all for attending. We are ‘ere today to be briefed on the Station’s newest, standard issue equipment for violent confrontations.” 

This was met with nodding heads and a murmur of approval. Ever since the incident at the Blaine rally, Officers all over the country had been asking for upgrades to riot equipment. Didier continued as two other assistants came out with various items of blue clothing and began to dress the mannequin. After thirty seconds of bustling around it, as well as frustratedly uprooting the nails, the mannequin was covered head to toe in a very tight-fitting jumpsuit as well as standing straight.

“This suit is what we refer to as the Under-Armour. Once the Over-Armour has been fitted, the sensors that are built into the Under-Armour will link seamlessly with ze display in your ‘elmet to display everything from heart rate to your current speed of movement,” Didier said.

Footsteps were then heard from behind the audience, who turned around in response. Didier continued his speech as their collective jaws dropped.

“As you can see, the Over-Armour is less bulky than the outfits you have previously utilised in violent confrontations, allowing for greater freedom of movement and superior protection from blunt force and projectile fire.”

The Officer who had clearly volunteered to demonstrate the Over-Armour began to flex his muscles and pose in a very humorous display. The audience laughed, clearly impressed. Whilst the black Under-Armour was still visible beneath the Over-Armour, the Over-Armour itself was what held the audience’s gaze. Various metal plates and padding lay atop the Under-Armour like sleek inter-locking pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, and each one seemed to conform perfectly to the officer’s body shape. The smooth-faceted helmet covered the officer’s entire head and glinted under the department lights as Didier continued.

“Increased strength, mobility, durability, in-built radio with private frequency, and able to survive more punishment than any other riot gear currently in use.”

One of the technicians who had dressed the mannequin suddenly pulled a large and very threatening-looking cricket bat from inside his lab coat. He advanced towards the officer and positioned himself behind him, then without hesitation, cracked the bat on the officer’s shoulder blades. Whilst the officer in the suit did react, it was clear that the armour did its job to a much better degree than any fabric-based clothing. The technician looked at his bat, which now sported a large crack down the middle.

Didier began to wrap up.

“Last but not least we ‘ave a built-in megaphone for when you need to be ‘eard.” 

He motioned for the officer to demonstrate, who obliged.

“You all wished you looked as good as I do right now!” he loudly exclaimed with his voice amplified. 

It was obvious he was wearing a rather large smile under that helmet. Didiers face broke into a broad smile.

“We should ‘ave received ‘ze bulk order we placed in less than a month. ‘Zen we will be ‘ze most prepared for any large-scale confrontation ‘zat comes our way.”

Before the applause broke out, the officer put a cap on the demonstration by showing off that his shoulder plates and visor plate doubled as police lights. The small audience broke into laughter and applause as the officer gave them all the pleasure of a gun show, complete with siren and flashing red and blue lights.

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A/N: Hello everyone. This is my first Overwatch fic and I just wanted to take this moment to say thank you for reading and feel free to leave a review, critical analysis is always appreciated and welcome as well as making mention of any mistakes I've made because whilst I have an amazing editor, sometimes I'm just dumb and miss things anyway. Ta-Ta.  


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